Richelle Mead - Iron Crowned

“Far away, in a place unknown.”

“Oh good grief. If no one knows where it is, then how am I supposed to get it?”

“That’s part of the challenge. Find it, and you end the war.”

I eyed her carefully. “If this is such a great idea, why not bring it to Dorian? Your king?”

“He knows of it,” she agreed. “He’s old enough to remember the legends. But he couldn’t wear it. Only you.” Now she eyed me carefully. “Your father sought it—and failed.”

I stiffened, my voice turning to ice. “Is this part of the prophecy? Some way of marking me as the conqueror’s mother? Is it something I’m supposed to give to my hypothetical son?”

“No,” she said. Her demeanor turned humble, but those eyes still looked shrewd. “It is merely a means to help you end your war.”

“I’ve heard enough of this ridiculousness.” I stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

Masthera started to call after me as I strode away but then bit off her words. I wondered if she had accepted my refusal or simply feared the guards’ responding to continual harassment of me.

I returned to Dorian’s room and slipped back into bed with him. His arm unconsciously wrapped around me, and although it took a while, my troubled mind finally calmed enough to allow me some brief sleep. It was his movements that woke me a few hours later. I sat up in bed, watching as he dressed. Through the windows, the sky was barely a pinkish purple.

“You’re going to meet the armies already?” I asked quietly.

From a chaise, he lifted a breastplate made of fine copper chain. Normally, he had attendants dressing him, and I knew he was doing it alone so that a group of people traipsing through his room wouldn’t wake me. Watching him fumble at fastening it, I hurried over to help.

“Katrice’s forces will attack as soon as they have enough light. They may have already. It’s only the unfamiliar terrain that stopped them from doing it overnight.”

I finished hooking the chainmail, trying not to think about how rare it was for him to wear any sort of armor. It was a sign of the danger he walked into, even if he avoided the front lines.

“I wish you weren’t going.”

He gave me that easy smile and rested his hands on my bare hips. “Me too. I’d much rather be back in bed with you. Stay a couple hours. I’m sure I’ll be right back.”

That brought a smile to my lips, though I felt no humor. “Yes, I’m sure that’s all it’ll take.”

He released me and turned to a cabinet on the wall. Opening it, he revealed a number of weapons. One of them was an exquisitely made copper sword, crafted by a metalsmith in my employ named Girard. Dorian touched it reverently, then slipped it into a scabbard he fastened around his waist. While dangerous in and of itself, the sword possessed an extra threat because of Dorian’s connection to the earth and its elements. He could infuse it with power.

“Dorian …” I hesitated, afraid to ask my next question. “Have you ever heard of the Iron Crown?”

“Of course.” He finished fastening the scabbard and glanced back up at me. “Why?”

“I ran into a woman named Masthera last night, who told me about it.”

“Ah, Masthera,” he said fondly. “Every court should have a seeress. Her predictions are right about half the time—which is quite remarkable. You should see the farce of a seer they’ve got over in the Maple Land. I’d be humiliated to keep someone like that around.”

“Hey, focus,” I chastised. “This Iron Crown. Masthera claims it could end the war. That by winning it and proving our—er, my—power, I could make Katrice back down.”

The smile faded as Dorian frowned, looking deep in thought. “That’s a very real possibility. And you could wear it, couldn’t you?” A sense of wonder lit his words. “The iron wouldn’t bother you. In legends, some shining ones could wear it through strength and force of will. But you’d need none of that. It’d just be in your nature.”

I could hardly believe he was speaking about this seriously. “And you think she’s right? This crown—with no power except a reputation—could end the war?”

“Well, it’s not the crown’s reputation, exactly,” he said. “It’s the reputation you gain by fighting the many obstacles to get it. Show you can do it, and you show your power.” It was similar to what Masthera had said.

“If others have possessed it—”

“Not for ages,” he interrupted.

“Okay, even if it hasn’t been for ages … why would I have to quest for it? Wouldn’t the last owner have just kept it around? Passed it through the family?”

His smile came back. “It doesn’t work that way. The crown won’t stay with anyone unworthy. Once its owner passes, it returns to its home—a home that kills many who seek it.”

“You didn’t answer the earlier question,” I pointed out. “Could it end the war? Peacefully?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. But as much as you fear me going out today … I’d worry more about you going after this trinket.”

I caught hold of his hand. “You wouldn’t help?” I teased, though I still wasn’t buying any of it.

His free hand cupped my face. “I would if I could. And maybe I could. If the legends are true, you pass through iron fields to get to it. Hardly any of the shining ones could do that. I might be able to, with my abilities…. I’d stand a better chance than most.”

I didn’t like the tone of his voice. It sounded as though he was actually considering this. He might connect with the elements of the earth, but iron was still beyond him.

“I could bring Volusian,” I said, wanting to distract him. “If something happens to him, no harm done, eh?”

Dorian’s face stayed serious. “No, the legends are quite clear. The Iron Crown’s lair is blocked to the dead.”

“Well, none of it matters,” I said. “The whole idea is ridiculous.”

His face lightened, and he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “Which is why I leave now.”

My heart sank, knowing the inevitable had arrived. I hurriedly put on my jeans and shirt so that I could see him and the accompanying soldiers off. I knew the armies they would join were massive, but as he rode off toward the rising sun, his group seemed so frighteningly small. When he was out of my sight, I went to summon the rest of my own party. It was time for us to go home.

Most had enjoyed their “night out,” but my mood that morning soon set the tone for our journey back. The one small comfort to my dark morning was that Jasmine hadn’t gotten impregnated. Shaya assured me that my sister had never left her sight throughout the night and that Jasmine hadn’t actually even tried anything sinister. She had simply been content to be away from my castle. Eyeing her tight iron cuffs and the chains that connected them, I felt a small pang of guilt. I quickly banished it. Those constraints had to stay.

After that, it was time for another Tucson jump. I first summoned Volusian and sent him to Dorian’s side, both for backup and later reports. I knew Dorian wouldn’t welcome my minion, but his having a fighter that couldn’t be killed would certainly make me feel better. Once that and other household affairs were settled, I went back to join humanity.

The scene at my house was nearly the same as yesterday. A quiet morning, with Tim cooking in the kitchen. Only, today he was dolled up in full costume.

“You’re Lakota,” I said, once he’d recovered from the shock of my abrupt arrival. “What happened to Tlingit?”

He shrugged. “The Tlingit are cool, but your average stereotype-loving tourist expects this.” He wore tassled buckskin pants and a long feathered headdress. His bare tanned chest looked like it had been oiled, and it had beaded necklaces hanging on it. Studying him, I reconsidered. He wasn’t true Lakota either. Just some amalgamation of stereotypes, like he’d said.